


How can you be ready for life (when you are not ready for love)?

by Milestogo56 (Pink_boxers_rainbow)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Dry Humping, Heavy Angst, M/M, Please Kill Me, Sad Ending, Soulmates, Tony Needs a Hug, and a steve, author is a wuss, kill me who am i kidding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-01-03
Packaged: 2019-02-27 16:39:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13252290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pink_boxers_rainbow/pseuds/Milestogo56
Summary: He could see Steve’s eyes. Again and again, like the time they touched.It’s as if, he was walking in mine-field filled with daisies. He is done; he is tired and doesn’t want to die. The punches come one after another, his armor not too weak to defend but he can’t stand it—can’t stand the thought of colors.He wished to live in the plain grayscale again. From above, he could see and feel Steve tearing inside—he could, because…because they are soul mates. The shield slams against his chest; the arc reactor’s light—gone. He can’t stand the thought of color.He hates the color blue. He doesn’t want to see it anymore.-------------------------------------------------Soulmate Au where everything except the colour of your Soulmate's eyes is grayscale, until you touch them for some time.





	How can you be ready for life (when you are not ready for love)?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [genderfluid_pigeon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/genderfluid_pigeon/gifts).



> I am sorry, pige. This is perhaps the worst gift.

The first time he saw the color blue, it was at school. There were no in-betweens, just a tinge of greenish-dash, but blue. He looked up to see the sky and saw blue instead of tiny-particle reflecting the grayscale blandness.

The first time he saw the color blue, he told Jarvis that he could and his soul mate had the prettiest eyes. Jarvis laughed, held him close and whispered, “Oh, Master Tony. I hope so.”

* * *

 

The first time they fuck, it’s dirty and electrifying. It wasn’t exactly sex as much as it was humping in the dark.

 

Steve was drunk due to some asgardian shit Thor bought and he was already drunk before the party started. Pepper left him five hours ago, she was crying on his shoulder murmuring ‘sorry, sorry, sorry’ as if any of it was her fault. The plainness of agony—and part jealously—burned his chest.  Pepper wasn’t his, but they were still dating—seeing if this could work. They played around each other like cats and fucked like rabbits. 

 

“It—it wasn’t the same Tony. Oh god, I could—I could see them. The colors, Tony—she is the most…”

 

The red of her lips were smudged the same way it was the first time they kissed—softly, gently and then like animals.  She cried and Tony didn’t speak, or comfort her. The memory seems distant now—a haze, unimportant but floating there.

 

“Damn it—can I—”

 

“Yeah, yeah. Anything Steve, anything—“

 

There is nothing like touching Steve—and if Sex was closest to leave the plain grayscale behind then touching Steve was not just close, He could literally see colors behind his eyelids. 

 

Tony opened his eyes to darkness, Steve had begged (and —Steve begging is the best thing this universe could offer) to let the darkness consume them so he ordered Jarvis to switch them off.  Its winter and he is warm, once his fingers traveled along the prominent collarbone Steve keened and Tony’s hands were on fire. Kissing Steve was for—lack or any other words—wondrous. He couldn’t stop himself and neither could Steve, he opened his mouth for better accessibility and Steve slid his tongue in without any stimulation.

 

It’s rather questionable about how angry Steve was back in the living room and then, minutes later, pleading Tony to touch him. Tony didn’t mind either, he was always (guilty) wanting to touch him whenever they were in close proximity. This was a new discovery—albeit, a rather risqué one considering they guy didn’t like him, and it’s totally not Steve’s fault: Tony is handful.

 

Well, if he thinks hard then it started the first time Steve tried to grab him. It was like a spell—binding him to come closer to Steve and trying to make him laugh with some casual jokes (which failed) and anyway, he would be lying if he said that his “performances” were kept up after meeting Steve. Pepper never complained but he knew that he was getting a little disinterested. The second time Steve touched him, it was a little longer and he could see visions of red because he knocked his head too hard but—it wasn’t painful as much as it was warm, too warm. Then it was gone.

 

“Tony, Tony, Tony…” Steve groans, hitching him higher on his thighs and continuing to thrust. They weren’t naked and the fiction of rough clothing might be painful but somehow the care was gone. Tony bit Steve’s neck because it smelled delicious; pine and sea, mountains and ocean, and everything anything Tony thought wasn’t possible.

 

He comes in his pants for the first time in years and slides down the wall once Steve loosens his grip on him.

 

“I am sorry.”  Steve says breathing heavily. He gives Tony a look then sits down beside him.

 

“No problem.”  

 

Steve’s eyes were blue.

* * *

 

 

 

The first time Tony sees the ocean, it’s when he is six. The things in his mind always blend together and he can’t concentrate. The teacher called his mother to say that he isn’t doing his homework, his Mum wasn’t angry.

 

“I don’t wanna do it, they are easy!”  Tony complains. He knows that his mum is sad and his dad is away fishing in the Artics and that he could see the pale shade of red his mother’s wrists were always. Jarvis didn’t come with her. The driver stops the car in front of white sands.

 

“Where are we going?”  He asks, concerned. His mum didn’t speak; she lets out a sigh and walks out of the car.

 

“Come here, Anthony.”  She says after walking a considerable distance.  Tony slides off the seat and onto the white sands, feeling like his hammering heart would fumble out of his chest. He walks over, slowly, to where his Mum stands.

 

Then, he sees blue.

 

“Mum?”

 

She looked at him and smiles, really smiles.

 

“This is the ocean, dear.”

* * *

 

 

If this was any other day—any other moment—any other—oh god, not now, please not now.

 

Steve straddled him, his eyes the greenish blue—haunting, haunting, haunting—the touch was too long. The contact, his repulsors (they were working but he can’t) and the electrifying sensation was gone and now all left was colors. He could see grey, black, deep blue, red—

 

He could see Steve’s eyes. Again and again, like the time they touched.

 

It’s as if, he was walking in mine-field filled with daisies. He is done; he is tired and doesn’t want to die. The punches come one after another, his armor not too weak to defend but he can’t stand it—can’t stand the thought of colors.

 

He wished to live in the plain grayscale again. From above, he could see and feel Steve tearing inside—he could, because…because they are soul mates. The shield slams against his chest; the arc reactor’s light—gone. He can’t stand the thought of color.

 

He hates the color blue. He doesn’t want to see it anymore

* * *

 

_“So, here often?”_

_Steve turned around to fast, spinning on his heels and almost knocking out the bookshelves. He finds Tony’s unmistakably smug face._

_“How did you sneak up on me?”  Steve asked. He had been distracted lately._

_“Honestly?” Tony says, pushing Steve away from so he can stand in front of the shelf. “I don’t know, you tell me soldier.”_

_He doesn’t answers. Tony hummed, placing a finger on the spines of the book as if he was feeling among the ragged titles. There was just silence for a few moments and Steve kept watching him; he doesn’t know what to say but the air among them is…tense._

_“You read?” Steve finally asks and then winces at his choice of wordings. “I mean—books—um, literature—“_

_“I was a private school brat, Steve.” Tony responds pulling out a book. “Unlike popular belief, I know my literature well.”_

_“Oh,” Steve says and stays silent._

_Tony hums, examining the cover of the book, ah Shakespeare. He sighs opening the book and lifting a few pages, brows furrowed as he abruptly closes it. Tony turns around and points towards the well worn cover of Romeo and Juliet._

_“Did you read this?” He asks_

_“Yes,” Steve answers, exhaling loudly. “I didn’t—I don’t like it.”_

_“Huh, why is that? I thought you were a romantic kind of—“_

_“Everybody dies, Tony.”  He says, refusing to meet Tony’s eyes._

_“Why? You believe in happy ending?” He pokes, eyes wrinkling at the corners. Steve smiles demurely._

 

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> i have Steve's part ready but I will just end this fic here. Bye. Kill me.


End file.
